Refuge
by jmd0820
Summary: Vic shows up at Walt's after the Chance Gilbert showdown and stuff happens. :)


**Refuge**

One shot little something for Friday.

AU: Takes place after "Population 25". Spoilers, especially for Season 3 (one of my favorites) but does clearly veer from canon.

Walt sat in his cabin holding a can of Ranier. As much as he had thought he wanted the beer, it wasn't doing anything for him. Now, he was sitting and thinking whiskey might be more what was called for after this hellish night. Leaning over, he set the can on the coffee table and swiped his hand across his jeans. He had no idea what time it was. And he didn't care. His mind was still filled with images racing through his mind.

Chance Gilbert holding a gun to Vic's temple.

Vic looking at him through the window of an old Grenada.

The headlights of his Bronco flashing across the dark landscape and Vic sliding out of it with that ghost like look in her eyes.

Haunted.

Hollow.

That was how she looked. And how he felt.

He had gone to the hospital primarily to get her looked at. He knew from her own muttered words, she had taken some serious blows to the head. With a damn baseball bat.

She had seemed so absent sitting there while Weston stitched him up. He wasn't worried about himself. It was a nick. Something he normally would have tended himself. But, if it appeased her and gave her some peace of mind, he would have done almost anything in that moment. He had felt simultaneously relieved and baffled when he pulled her to him. She came so willingly and buried her face in his chest. In all the time he had known her, he had never seen such a show of emotion. He held her through it and then eased away and offered to take her home.

He had no idea where her husband was. And, in that moment, he didn't care. Whatever was happening between Vic and Sean, Walt couldn't understand why the man wasn't at the hospital looking for his wife. It left a bitter taste in his mouth when he pulled up in front of her house and Sean appeared to be home. She had sat for a long moment like she wasn't sure what to do and then she looked at him in that not there way and then she was gone.

Like a wisp of smoke.

Walt shook the thoughts from his mind. Vic was home where she should be. He pushed up from the couch with the intent to pour himself a glass or two of something stronger than beer. Two steps towards his kitchen and there was a soft knock on his door.

Walt paused with a frown. He was in no mood for company.

He crossed the distance to the door and pulled it open.

He was already opening his mouth to speak. But, when he saw her standing there, everything stopped. Vic stood on his porch under the sickly glow of his porch light looking very much like he left her earlier. As a matter of fact, she looked exactly the same.

She lifted her eyes to meet his with a look of sheer apprehension. His eyes moved beyond her to see her truck sitting next to his Bronco. When his eyes shifted back, the lecture about how she had no business driving died on his lips.

"Vic?"

She had her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold. She was wearing the same dirty, bloody clothes and didn't look like she had showered or cleaned herself up at all.

"Can I…come in?"

Walt nodded and ushered her inside with a light hand to her shoulder.

"Yeah, sure."

He closed the door behind her and escorted her to the couch.

"Here, sit."

She sat slowly. Walt sat next to her, turning his attention to her. Her expression was still frighteningly vacant.

"Vic, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be driving."

She nodded and turned her face to his.

"I know. But I…I had to get out of the house and I…didn't know where else to go."

Walt frowned.

"Did something happen with Sean?"

She sat as still as a stone for several seconds before her head bobbed in a nod.

"Yeah…"

Her words trailed off as though she lost her train of thought.

"…we had a fight."

Walt felt a new anger boil up in him. Why on earth would the man want to fight with her after the kind of night they'd had. Couldn't any issues wait until sunrise, at least?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head silently. Walt tapped his fingers against his thigh, unsure of how to proceed. She clearly needed…something…or someone. Suddenly, as if a thought occurred to her, she looked down at herself like she was just now realizing the state she was in.

"I just…wanted to take a shower."

She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"But…he was…"

She shook her head and the words died out again. Walt glanced towards his bedroom.

"Vic, do you want to take a shower?"

She gave a slight shake of her head.

"I don't have any clothes."

Walt stood up.

"I can find you something clean to wear for tonight. Come on."

She hesitated and then rose to follow him to his bedroom. Walt set about finding something suitable for her to wear and found her some clean towels. He set the stack in the bathroom on the vanity.

"Take your time."

He left her alone and pulled the bathroom and then the bedroom door closed behind him. He returned to the couch. She seemed so out of it. It scared him. He couldn't understand why her husband would want to argue after such an experience. Any serious discussion could wait until she was feeling better. Until they were both feeling better. He tried to relax, but now he felt ill at ease. He was worried for Vic's mental state, as well as her physical.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but she finally emerged from his bedroom carrying her dirty clothes wadded up. Walt stood up quickly and took the clothes from her, setting them aside. She was clean now, at least. The blood was washed off. His clothes dwarfed her, but he didn't have anything other than a t-shirt and sweatpants to offer her. She would've had to roll the waistband of the pants to make them work. But, at least they were clean.

Vic stood in his living room looking at him with a new clarity. She still seemed distant but the shower seemed to have cleared her head some. She moved to sit back on the couch and pulled her bare feet up, tucking them under her. Walt sat next to her again.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Vic bit her lip and looked at him for a long, quiet moment.

"My marriage…I think is over."

Walt swallowed.

"Vic, you both went through something…"

She shook her head, cutting him off.

"It's complicated, Walt."

She sighed deeply.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He nodded slowly.

"Okay."

She looked down at where her hands rested in her lap.

"I'm sorry for just showing up without calling. I was driving around and…I…couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

Walt felt his heart break a little for her. He didn't often consider the situation she was in. Other than her husband, she didn't have any family nearby to offer support. He wasn't completely in on her social life, but she never mentioned anything about friends outside of work. As much as they worked, those types of bonds could prove difficult to form, especially in a new place.

"It's fine. But…you really shouldn't be driving. You have a concussion."

She nodded.

"I know."

Walt sat uneasily, unsure of what to do.

"Are you hungry or…"

His words trailed off and she shook her head.

"No."

"Do you need anything?"

He could see her mulling over something before she turned her face to him again.

"My own husband didn't ask me that."

Walt wasn't sure what to do with the comment. As hard as it was, he tried to keep his opinions about Vic's marriage to himself. He sat and listened to the seconds tick by. She finally spoke again.

"Sean…believes there is something going on between us."

Walt knew that. Sean had confronted him about it that one uncomfortable time when Gorski had popped up and sent Sean a picture of himself and Vic at an Arizona motel, looking less like coworkers and more like something else. Something more.

"Did you tell him that's not true?"

She nodded, her face looking tired and frustrated.

"Over and over. He doesn't believe me. And I didn't really help that tonight."

Walt's brow furrowed in question.

"What do you mean?"

She inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath.

"We knew that you were there…one of Chance's men told him that you were. And then…a body was thrown in with us and I thought it was you. I…reacted badly and Sean is more convinced that…"

She sighed and left the thought unfinished. Walt got the point. She just shook her head.

"Do you want to call him? Let him know that you're safe?"

"No."

She supplied the answer quickly. Too quickly.

"I just want…"

She shrugged her shoulders and seemed to pull into herself. Walt wanted to touch her like he had earlier in the evening. At the hospital. When he'd held her. It had stirred something inside of him. Something that seemed inappropriate in the moment. He had put it off as being over wrought and tired. The evening had been a roller coaster of emotions for everyone.

Tentatively, he extended his hand and placed it on her shoulder. It wasn't dissimilar from the way he had softly touched her wrist at the hospital. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to feel that connection with her again. Vic dipped her face away and swiped at her eyes with her palm.

"The truth is…I don't want to be married to a man who is mad at me all the time. I'm just so tired."

Her words sounded fatigued and waterlogged.

"Do you want to take my bed? I can sleep here on the couch."

For the first time since she appeared on his porch, she almost smiled.

"Not that kind of tired. Just tired of…everything. I'm tired of trying to please everyone and to be…something I'm not. It's exhausting to be constantly at odds with the one person who should offer you…refuge. I mean…isn't that what marriage should be?"

Walt nodded slowly, understanding exactly what she was expressing. He gave her shoulder a little tug. The slightest of pressure. She willingly leaned into him, pressing her face into his shoulder. Walt lifted his free hand and ran in over her hair, clean now from her shower in his bathroom. She smelled good. His shampoo and soap was much more appealing on Vic.

It was in that moment that he felt it. Her mouth pressed against the skin of his neck. It wasn't a kiss. Her mouth didn't move. It was just there. But it sent electricity through him all the same. But it wasn't a kiss. Until it was.

In the next second, she did press a kiss there. An extremely light one that shouldn't have affected him the way it did. Then, she did it again. This time with more pressure. Walt's fingers involuntarily tightened on her head.

"Vic."

He fully intended for her name to come out in a way that would stop her. Strong and firm. What actually happened was it came out of his mouth sounding nearly ragged with feeling. He liked the way her mouth felt against his skin and the tone and cadence of his voice suggested just that. His body had betrayed him.

Another kiss and then another. He could feel her escalating in his arms, her breathing quickening by the second. Walt was struggling to keep his own body under control. He did manage to pull her head back away from him. But what he saw when she lifted her eyes to meet his, caused all of the blood to drain from his brain and rush to other parts of his anatomy.

Walt wasn't sure anyone had ever looked at him like that. With an expression that seemed so intense it could literally burn a hole though him. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and looked at his mouth. Walt swallowed. He could see this situation on the edge of spiraling out of control.

Vic wasn't just any woman. She worked for him. She was married. She had just been through an extremely traumatic experience. She had a head injury. A concussion. None of this was a good idea. She simply wasn't in her right mind.

But he was.

And he couldn't remember the last time he wanted something as badly as he wanted her in that moment.

The reality and the intensity of the feeling that surge through him when she looked at him that way nearly took his breath away. It froze him at the worst possible moment. Very slowly, Vic leaned in. He thought she was moving to kiss him. She wasn't. She drew her face close to his. So close that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. But, she didn't kiss him. She tilted her forehead so that it rested on the side of his face and murmured his name.

"Walt."

His name. The single, simple syllable of his name. It shouldn't have been problematic. But, when Vic said it, that single word was wrapped up with enough emotion and longing to fill a book. It was a question, a request, and a declaration all in one word.

And it unhinged him.

They turned their heads at the same time in opposite directions, meeting the middle. It was the most perfect analogy for their relationship. In that center, their lips contacted. It was light at first, a ghost of a kiss. Walt dipped his face from hers briefly, still trying to gain some measure of control over his body and his mind. But, both his body and his mind had other ideas. He lifted his mouth to hers again and another kiss happened. But this time, it was the real thing. He applied pressure. Vic's lips parted slightly and Walt accepted the invitation. His hands came up to either side of her face and pulled her all the way in, giving on any pitiful semblance of resistance.

He felt her hands on his side, her fingers digging in tight enough to leave marks. Vic tilted her head a little, making the kiss that much better. Her hands slid down his side, pausing at the top of his pants. Walt's own hand left her face and moved down to her ribs and then to her hips. His fingers splayed and made contact with her skin. And it was so soft and so warm. All he wanted was to feel more of it.

His hands pushed at her shirt, or his shirt, finally finding their way clear underneath. His palms came to rest flat on her skin, sliding up her back. Vic moaned against his mouth, a move that only furthered his complete and total loss of fighting this. She finally jerked her mouth from his, leaving him feeling empty. But his disappointment was short lived. She quickly pulled the shirt over her head, followed quickly by the tank top she wore underneath, leaving her only in her bra sitting on his couch. Vic's eyes met his. Held them. Reaching around behind herself, she unclasped her bra and let it fall away. For a second, he continued to stare directly into her eyes and then his gaze moved down.

And they were moving again. Walt pulled and Vic pushed. It wasn't unlike the everyday give and take between them. His hands were everywhere, his mouth followed it willingly. Her hands were in her hair, squeezing and pulling hard enough to register as pain. Walt's hands found the button of his own shirt and tore them open with one strong pull. With Vic's help, he shoved the shirt off. Her hands began to frantically and unsuccessfully pull at the buckle of his belt. His hands pushed hers clear and he did it himself. Walt stood up and shoved his pants down, before his hands tugged at the elastic waist of Vic's. She lifted her hips to allow him to slide them free, taking her underwear with them.

Walt sat on the couch and pulled her over him, until she was straddling him. Their eyes met once before she lowered herself and Walt felt himself on the edge of an abyss he wasn't sure he could pull back from. For a long moment, neither moved. The only audible sound was their harsh breathing. Then Vic leaned forward and kissed him and the move set them both off.

There was thrusting and grunting. There were whispered words and loud exhales. There were other sounds, almost animalistic in nature. It felt like it would end in seconds and like it would go on forever. Walt was certain he had never felt a buildup so intense. There was no concept of time in their nearly frantic movement, no real concept of anything other than each other.

Without warning, Vic's fingers bit harshly into his back, no doubt leaving marks. She shook in his grasp and mumbled a litany of jumbled words he couldn't decipher in his current state of mind. His own end wasn't far behind. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her shoulder, her hair covering her face. All he knew to do was hold on.

xxx

Walt startled awake. His first thought was that he'd had a hell of a dream. Until he heard her breathe beside him. Looking to the side, he saw Vic in his bed on her side, still sleeping. He watched her for a few minutes before he got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned, dress quickly and quietly and left the room to make coffee and breakfast. She would need it.

It wasn't long before she drifted in wearing the clothes he had given her to wear last night. She stepped into the kitchen looking tired and in her bare feet. Walt pushed down the surge the sight created in him. He nodded at the far counter.

"Coffee?"

She nodded wordlessly and poured herself a cup, slowly and deliberately adding milk and sugar like she always did. He watched her in his peripheral. She turned to watch him, leaning her back on the counter. After a few sips, she set the cup down and braced her hands on the counter.

"Walt…I'm sorry."

He frowned.

"Vic…"

She shook her head.

"Don't…it's okay. I shouldn't have…put you in that position last night. It…wasn't fair to you. Not after everything."

He absorbed her words before he spoke again.

"It wasn't your fault. It was…both of us. And I don't think either of us were in a place to make decisions like that."

She nearly smiled.

"I know."

He shook off the heaviness.

"Here, have some breakfast."

He handed her a plate and gestured at the table. Taking their coffee, that say at the table and ate in near silence. Occasionally, he would look up at her. She seemed somewhat better this morning. Like her head was clear. Or, at least, more clear.

When they were done, Vic stood.

"I'm gonna get dressed and go."

She started from the room.

"Vic?"

Pausing she met his eyes.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

It was a loaded question. Vic stood there.

"There's a lot to figure out. Decisions that aren't just mine. They don't just affect me. You know?"

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah."

He did know.

End.


End file.
